


We Will Always Know

by LuvEwan



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Play, Bondage, Delayed Orgasm, Dirty Talk, Dom Qui-Gon, Drama, Fellatio, Hand Job, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Praise Kink, Qui-Gon Lives, Sub Obi-Wan, Top Qui-Gon, Tumblr Prompt, absolute filth, bottom obi-wan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 09:50:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20992835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuvEwan/pseuds/LuvEwan
Summary: Qui-Gon Jinn has waited almost two years for Obi-Wan Kenobi to return from a mission. His former apprentice, and current lover, is too preoccupied by duty to enjoy a proper reunion. Qui-Gon fixes that.





	We Will Always Know

**Author's Note:**

> I was given the following prompt by the-chicago-way (thank you!) :
> 
> _Hello there! For filthy prompts, how about bondage and overstimulation/multiple orgasms? Qui-Gon really taking the time to take Obi-Wan apart. :)_
> 
> And this prompt took ME apart. I wrote 11 pages in one day. And it's not done yet.

You lay beside me; your hand moved over my face  
as though you had felt it also—  
you must have known, then, how I wanted you.  
We will always know that, you and I.

The proof will be my body. -louise gluck

\-----

Qui-Gon Jinn stood alone on the landing platform. A breeze gently stirred his robe, and he glanced up at the Coruscanti sky. Among the stars embedded like white beads in a dark swatch of fabric, he saw the ship. 

His breath caught. The air seemed cooler, somehow; he suppressed a shiver, and crossed his arms over his chest. 

It was only polite for someone to greet a fellow Jedi Knight on their return from a long, difficult mission. Even if they returned in the middle of the night. Especially if that Jedi had been gone for nearly two years, on a world with limited technology and sporadic communication. 

Three messages. And they had been brief, professionally clipped. Three messages, in all those months. 

The approach of the ship reverberated along the platform, up Qui-Gon’s spine. He stepped back as the small vessel descended. It was a beater, which explained the spastic thunder in his ears, a similar rumbling behind his rib cage. 

The wind quickened. His long hair whipped around his face, and he lifted the robe’s cowl over his head. 

The settling hisses and groans, routine noises he’d heard so many times before. An engine resting, a hatch opening. 

Qui-Gon swallowed once and cleared his throat. 

_Peace. I can sense him. I can sense him now. _

Obi-Wan Kenobi walked down the ramp, a small rucksack slung over his shoulder. He looked at Qui-Gon and then down again, covering his mouth with a hand. 

The air ruffled through Obi-Wan’s hair, and Qui-Gon’s fingers flexed, with jealousy, with remembered closeness. He had spent entire nights sitting awake, wanting nothing more than to run his hand through the soft, auburn hair, imagining how it would fall into Obi-Wan’s eyes. It was the sort of tenderness that hurt every part of him. 

The tenderness he saw now, in the way the other man hid his emotion behind that hand. 

Qui-Gon smiled, and moved forward to greet him. Only walking, no urgency to his step, because they were Jedi, and though it was very late, the Temple possessed wakeful, watchful eyes. 

So on the ramp, he was merely welcoming his old Padawan home. They stopped a respectable distance apart from one another. Qui-Gon reached out and gripped Obi-Wan’s elbows. 

“Knight Kenobi,” he said, and if his voice was hoarse, it was a consequence of standing outside on a windy night. 

The headlights from a passing speeder flashed across Obi-Wan’s face, caught the wet gleam there. “Master Jinn,” Obi-Wan replied.

Qui-Gon glanced behind him. The Temple loomed above, pristine monument, constant reminder of what could not, _should not_, be. He turned back to Obi-Wan and leaned in close to his ear. To anyone that happened to see, it would appear he was talking closely, perhaps to be heard over the wind’s tumult. 

Instead, his lips grazed skin. The relief melted him. He sensed Obi-Wan, behind the shields and facade, melt too. 

“How I’ve missed you,” he whispered, and kissed him again and then again. Three times.

——-

After the first year of his mission, Obi-Wan’s sparse Knight’s quarters had been reassigned. This was common; no attachments, to people or to places. Qui-Gon had taken the bin of personal items—blanket, data readers, a teacup—collected by the docent, stored them in his own, larger rooms. 

So it made sense that the Knight and Master traveled from the landing pad through the halls to the lifts, then straight to Qui-Gon’s quarters. It was too late to bother anyone for a new room assignment. 

Obi-Wan followed him inside. The living area was awash in shadows, dimly lit by a few candles on a side table. 

“Is Anakin—“

“On a training excursion with several other Padawans,” Qui-Gon supplied, listening for the clean click of the door sealing behind them. 

Then he took the pack from Obi-Wan’s shoulder, let it slide to the floor. He wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist, and pressed his nose into the curve of his neck and breathed deeply. Solid, warm, _here_. “Oh Obi-Wan..”

He felt a small sigh against him. “I missed you too.” Obi-Wan murmured. 

Qui-Gon backed up enough to take Obi-Wan’s face in his hands. He was only twenty-nine; two years had done nothing but more finely define his features. He was handsome, uniquely (crooked teeth) and completely (eyes, blue eyes, grey eyes, bottomless sweet eyes). “You’ve spent time in the sun,” he observed, thumb tracing subtle, gold freckles. 

“Yes, well,” Obi-Wan flushed, never the kind who sought out compliments, but endured them humbly, “We rarely had shelter.”

Qui-Gon was a sentimental fool. If he had just been a man, he would have replied with some nonsense such as “_I want to shelter you forever_” or “_you are so beautiful it is a wonder I can stand at all”_. But he knew enough not to start down that path. Instead he placed a kiss on Obi-Wan’s forehead, and said “I’m glad you’re back.”

Obi-Wan looked suddenly weary, sagging slightly, but he smiled, resting his hand against Qui-Gon’s bearded cheek. “So am I.”

——

They drank tea and then Qui-Gon insisted they go to sleep. “Reports can wait until you’ve had space to recuperate.” He said, standing at the entrance to his bedroom. 

Obi-Wan looked up from the data pads he had arranged on the table. “Recuperating? From what, my tan?” He asked, with a smirk. 

“You’ve been away for a long time.” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed, leaning over his work again, “The Council has two years of talking to do with me, or should I say _at_ me, in the morning.”

Qui-Gon’s jaw clenched. If possible, his relationship with the Council had further deteriorated in Obi-Wan’s absence. Now that Anakin was his Padawan, he realized just how often Obi-Wan had served as a buffer between Qui-Gon and the esteemed...stubborn group of Jedi. “Perhaps I will do some talking with them in the morning.”

Obi-Wan blew out a breath, running his hands through his hair. He had turned up the lights and still wore his boots. “That’s not necessary, M—Qui-Gon. I finished the majority of my report in transit. I just have a few things to tie up.” He offered a smile, and it reminded Qui-Gon of what he had longed for the last two years. Just that smile, Obi-Wan’s particular Light. 

Qui-Gon drummed his fingers on the door frame. He wasn’t sure what exactly he had expected when Obi-Wan returned. Was this young man, now a seasoned Knight, supposed to shirk his duties and immediately fall into Qui-Gon’s embrace? Allow himself to be carried to bed, spend the night being caressed and worshiped and fall asleep listening to his lover’s pent-up litanies? His chest tightened. He ached, low and deep. Yes, he wanted that. 

But he wanted Obi-Wan more, and Obi-Wan would not do those things, was all but incapable of those things. He was enthusiastic during their rare lovemaking. Even adventurous, yet Obi-Wan was above all a dutiful and prudent individual. If there was work to be done, he would do it, whether or not he was exhausted, regardless of how Qui-Gon desired to hold him and make up something of those two, lonely years. 

He could not change Obi-Wan. As his Master, he had tried to teach him to relax. Now, they were equals, and Qui-Gon could not impart lessons in the same manner. This was not his apprentice anymore. This was a man who shared his bed.

Sometimes. Fleetingly. The last time being more than two years ago. He closed his eyes, and felt the warmth of Obi-Wan beside him, their bare skin brushing together, his hand fitting so well along the curve of Obi-Wan’s hip. He shifted his own hips, studying the broad shoulders, slender build, the peeks of skin, tanned and luminous skin. 

“You are tired,” he tried again. 

Obi-Wan smiled at him. Fleetingly. “I’m always tired.”

Qui-Gon exhaled through his nose and walked over to the couch, rubbing his hands down Obi-Wan’s back. Obi-Wan eased slightly back into the touch, though he still held a glowing screen in one hand. 

“Then come to bed with me,” Qui-Gon said, slipping his hands under the layers of tunics. He kissed the base of his neck and hummed. “Two years…” 

Obi-Wan turned to kiss him. He tasted like tea and the mild spice of toothpaste. 

His mouth was so warm and soft. Qui-Gon sunk into the kiss, hands roaming under the tunics, rediscovering muscles and scars, reaching—

Obi-Wan broke away. His lips glistened from Qui-Gon’s fervor. His hair was still short, but grown out from the more severe Padawan cut, and it suited him, the forelock that flopped into his eyes. That was Obi-Wan—neat, controlled, but always with something just a little askew. 

Qui-Gon swept the forelock aside. “I have waited…”

Obi-Wan took his hand. “I know. It was...difficult. Do not think it wasn’t, for me. I’ve spent so much of my life with you. In different ways, of course,” his eyes twinkled, “Sometimes I wish...well, I suppose I wish there was not so much to be done. But that is the life we have chosen, isn’t it?”

Qui-Gon heard affection in the quiet voice, affection cushioning an apology. He deflated, pulling himself to his feet. “You are infinitely wiser than me, Obi-Wan. What would I do without you to tie up the little things?” 

Obi-Wan’s cheeks pinked. “You would manage. As you have,” he said, and returned his attention to the data pad. 

——-

The Council indeed required Obi-Wan’s presence when the sun had barely crested the Galactic City skyline. Qui-Gon did not see Obi-Wan the rest of that day, or the next. 

_“Meetings with the Chancellor. It feels like this assignment will never officially end_” He sent to Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon could hear the rougher edge to Obi-Wan’s voice. 

He sat alone in his quarters. Obi-Wan’s pack remained in the corner of the living room, and his aura lingered everywhere. Qui-Gon leaned back on the couch, acknowledging his mounting frustration. Anakin would be back by the end of the week and while Obi-Wan would likely spend some time at the Temple, Qui-Gon guessed he and his Padawan would be dispatched on another mission very soon. 

And then how much longer until he saw Obi-Wan again? Would it be months, or more years? What chasms would form between them, when duty stole even the few precious hours they found themselves together? 

He had chosen this life, as much as anyone could _choose_ their life. But he had chosen Obi-Wan, too. 

Obi-Wan had chosen _him._

He could not withstand another separation. Not this way.

——-

_“Knight Kenobi, I request your presence this evening. I would like to continue our previous discussion. Thank you. Qui-Gon Jinn.”_

——

It was still very late before Obi-Wan appeared at his door. Qui-Gon let him inside. 

Obi-Wan looked wilted, back curved and tunics creased. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of a hand. “The Force has it out for me. I’ve done something to anger it, and my punishment is never ending meetings with _politicians_.”

Qui-Gon smiled, helping him out of his robe. The elegant disdain with which Obi-Wan delivered a rant was impressive, even charming. Ironically, he could have made an effective politician. 

“I resent that,” Obi-Wan grumbled, easily catching the unshielded thought. He dropped onto the couch. “Four back-to-back meetings with the Chancellor and various underlings today, and the Council still wants a secondary report from Fahul.” Qui-Gon passed him a cup of tea, which he accepted with a soft _thank you_ before taking a drink. “I’m sorry, this is cold. I can heat-“

Qui-Gon stopped him by lifting a hand. “It was hot an hour ago, when you said I should expect you.”

Obi-Wan compressed his lips and looked down. “It was not my intention to be late. You know how it can be.”

“I do,” Qui-Gon agreed. “I know how our tasks and duties and obligations can swallow us up. If one is not careful, duty supersedes everything else, and even the Force becomes secondary.”

Obi-Wan’s chest rose and fell evenly. His energy was contained, expression almost unreadable. 

_Almost. _

“If you think I do not...appreciate what we have, you are mistaken.” Obi-Wan said carefully. “The early years of Knighthood are a second trial. I strive to do as well as I can. If I cannot meet every expectation, I have no excuse. But I will try harder in the future.”

Qui-Gon swallowed a lump of sour guilt. He sat beside Obi-Wan. “I don’t want you to try, Obi-Wan. It’s merely...I don’t want you to be lost in what is expected of you, by the Council, the Chancellor, most of all, yourself.”

Obi-Wan studied his face. “You know this about me, Qui-Gon.”

Qui-Gon smiled, leaning in to kiss him. “I know. For all your skills, Knight Kenobi, all your accomplishments, you are hopeless at living in the moment.”

Obi-Wan tensed as Qui-Gon’s tongue slipped into his mouth. 

“You deserve this,” Qui-Gon whispered, “the Universe will not fall apart if you do not spend every night buried in work.” 

“I…” Obi-Wan started to respond, but surrendered to the teasing mouth instead, moaning. 

Qui-Gon chuckled, trailing his hand down Obi-Wan’s chest, stomach, until he found the already-stirring bulge in his leggings. “You don’t need to talk, or explain yourself. You can just enjoy. Just _feel_, Obi-Wan. I’ve missed you so much. I’ve told you, but I’m not sure you understand how my body yearned for you, all the time.”

He unfastened the leggings and licked his finger before sliding inside them, under, finding the sensitive little hole and starting to rub. 

Obi-Wan keened into Qui-Gon’s shoulder. 

“I know, it’s been a long time for me too. I can only imagine the months of you denying your physical needs, focusing on the mission, trying to forget the other things you were made for.”

He swirled his finger around the sensitive entrance while Obi-Wan bucked and humped against him. 

“That feels good, doesn’t it? Endless meetings and Council sessions, your sweet spot aching all the while, ignored. You’ve done your duty, Obi-Wan. Force knows that. You’re the best among us. But this is good too.”

He felt Obi-Wan leaking onto him. He inhaled the scent and then began sucking Obi-Wan’s neck, biting gently. He continued circling the hole with his wet finger. “That’s so good. That sharp, bright pleasure. Did you let yourself come while you were away?”

Obi-Wan thrust back into the finger, eyes closed and mouth open. 

Qui-Gon fought the urge to pin him down and release his own tensions, fuck into the overstressed body until they were both spent. But Obi-Wan needed more. 

“Did you?” He asked again.

“N-No…” Obi-Wan admitted, biting his lip. “M-Meditated...ohhhhh…and was so…so rarely alone…”

Qui-Gon shook his head, incredulous. A healthy young man in his sexual prime, spending almost two years without release. His resolve strengthened; he twisted his finger suddenly, hitting the helpless gland, and Obi-Wan gasped, shuddering, spilling himself onto Qui-Gon’s tunics. 

Obi-Wan clutched at him, panting. “Force…” He lifted his head and sweat dripped from his chin, “You didn’t even..”

Qui-Gon’s erection remained painfully untouched, the tip leaking through his leggings. Again, he imagined sinking into that heat, reacquainting himself with Obi-Wan’s ass while he pounded out a hard orgasm. “I didn’t. I will. And you will, again,” he said, and gathered Obi-Wan in his arms. 

Still boneless from climax, Obi-Wan blinked up at him. “Again?” He mumbled as he was carried into the bedroom. “I don’t think…” 

Qui-Gon motioned the lights on and laid him out on the bed. He peeled off the wet tunics. Obi-Wan was bare, except for his small clothes. Then Qui-Gon removed his own tunics, tearing them into strips with his teeth, eyes never straying from Obi-Wan’s gaze. “I want you to come again and again. You have two years’ worth of orgasms you’ve kept locked up inside you.” He moved Obi-Wan to the center of the mattress, bound his wrists and ankles to the posts of the bed using his shredded tunic . 

Obi-Wan grunted as each knot was tied off. Qui-Gon watched the generous cock thicken and fight to rise, despite the restraining underwear. 

Qui-Gon leaned down and kissed him, palming the hot erection. “Is that alright?”

Obi-Wan caught Qui-Gon’s bottom lip between his teeth. He undulated his hips in flagrant need. 

_Yes_

Qui-Gon continued kissing him, rubbing the clothed cock, taking his time. He stretched out beside Obi-Wan on the bed. He licked both his nipples until they stood up as hard, needful peaks. “Can you meditate this away?” Qui-Gon wondered, tracing the weeping cockhead. Obi-Wan’s lean belly tightened. He twisted at the restraints. 

“Is this what you were waiting for?” Obi-Wan choked out. His skin was covered in a sheen of perspiration. 

Qui-Gon admired the curtain of hair spread out on the bed. He pulled his hand away from Obi-Wan’s insistent cock, to stroke the soft strands. He closed his eyes. “I was waiting for you, Obi-Wan. I want _you_. Always.”

He opened his eyes and Obi-Wan was staring at him. “You have me. Completely. Anything I’ve had to give, I’ve given to you.” Obi-Wan whispered. He sounded more urgently, desperately aroused than Qui-Gon had ever heard him.

His cock twitched. 

“You have. You give me what’s left, after the Council, your commitments. I cannot fault you for that. But what do you give _yourself_, Obi-Wan? When is there time for your needs?” He planted kisses along the trembling line of Obi-Wan’s jaw, paying special attention to the cleft in his chin. Then he pulled away, standing and stepping out of his trousers. His cock bounced. 

Obi-Wan spread his legs even wider at the sight. 

Desire burned in Qui-Gon’s hips. “Tell me what you need, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan snorted, glancing between Qui-Gon’s cock and his own. “Isn’t it rather obvious?” 

“Yes, but what _else_? When you are alone, and your body is lonely, what do you imagine? What does your body need then?”

Obi-Wan shifted in the makeshift shackles. A knot formed between his brows. “I….you. I want you, more than a quick release. That’s why I could go without.”

Qui-Gon smiled. He loved Obi-Wan, though he was aware he didn’t quite deserve him. No one had loved him the way Obi-Wan loved him, uncomplicated, despite their complicated past together. He climbed back on the bed, settled between the bare, tense legs, and tongued Obi-Wan’s cock over his underwear.

“A-Ahhh…” Obi-Wan dropped his head back on the bed, his eyelids fluttering. “Oh _gods_…”

Qui-Gon sucked and licked, the beige cloth clinging to the hard flesh. 

“What if I interrupted you during a Council meeting? Walked in and told them how much you squirm and ache for cock? And then sucked on you right through your clothes?”

Obi-Wan moaned, arching his back as Qui-Gon ran his tongue over the leaking slit. 

“Would you make a mess of yourself in front of them? Would you come in your pants and then bend over for more? Should they see the way you really are, proper Knight Kenobi, the way you are as soon as I touch your neglected body?”

He licked the soaked cloth, then rubbed vigorously, watching Obi-Wan wiggle and shudder. 

“There now,” he said, “That’s what you need now. You’re doing so well. You’re so responsive. I remember the first time we were together, how beautiful and enthusiastic you were.” He paused just as he sensed Obi-Wan’s orgasm approach, gingerly squeezed the base of the cock. 

Obi-Wan made a distressed noise, pushing his hips toward Qui-Gon. 

“You know what you want,” Qui-Gon kneaded Obi-Wan’s balls in his hand. “How’s that?”

Obi-Wan struggled, trying in vain to force his body up further into Qui-Gon’s hand. “Not quite as good as it _could_ be,” he said through gritted teeth. 

Qui-Gon massaged the tight balls. “Then remove the restraints. It’s simple enough. I doubt it would even require the Force.” He smiled as Obi-Wan averted his eyes slightly, and he felt the ripple of misplaced shame, “Ah, but you don’t want to. It’s nice for the choice to be taken away, to accept the needs of your body. To just be those needs, for a night.”

He watched the muscles twitch in Obi-Wan’s thighs. Not tanned there, but creamy white, and he looked less a seasoned warrior with that soft, secret skin. 

“It’s alright to want to be vulnerable. Here, where you are safe, where your body will be taken care of. Cherished.” Qui-Gon rolled the underwear down, and the red, needy cockhead sprung free. “Cherished,” he repeated, and sank his mouth down around Obi-Wan, still playing with his balls while he set an intense, suctioning rhythm. 

Obi-Wan could not keep quiet, gasping and sobbing, begging when Qui-Gon retreated, breathy little _please please pleases_ that very nearly triggered Qui-Gon’s climax. 

He tore the small clothes away completely. 

“Please what?” He asked, hand pressing the spot to deny Obi-Wan’s relief again. “Please what? Fuck you?”

“Yes!” Obi-Wan cried out, lifting his head as much as he could, looking at Qui-Gon with bright, wild eyes. “I need you...oh gods I need…”

“I know,” Qui-Gon crooned and took away his touch. He sat back with his hands on his thighs. “But if I do what you want, what I so badly want, and take you now, you won’t last more than a few seconds. Even with your considerable willpower, you’ve denied yourself too long. Two good thrusts and it’s over. Now that wouldn’t be satisfying, would it? That’s not what you ache for.”

Sweat ran down Obi-Wan’s temples. He whimpered, ankles flexing and tensing in the ties. 

“So I think the best course of action is to milk this thick cock with my hand, empty you of every drop, until you are covered with your own seed.” He grasped Obi-Wan’s erection and began lazily pumping while Obi-Wan moaned, “That’s it. You’re so ready. That’s what you needed on Fahul, in your cold, empty bed. You needed a finger in your hole and a strong hand around your cock.

“You needed me the moment you landed, too, but you denied it, denied yourself, as if it would make you a better Jedi. My perfect little Padawan, losing sleep over reports while your sweet ass burned with need. You needed to be fucked that night, and the night after. Your kisses are precious, Force knows you’ve owned me from the first time you kissed me, but we both needed more than kisses and quick embraces after two years, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan turned his face against his stretched arm. “I’m sorry...I’m…”

Qui-Gon moved his hand, faster, slow, fast. “Don’t be sorry. Don’t be sorry, Obi-Wan. You’re so good. That’s what I missed. Your light and goodness and sweetness. Don’t be sorry.” Without changing the pace or level of friction on Obi-Wan’s cock, Qui-Gon used a Force command to release his ankles from the tunic ties, then to hold his legs higher and further apart. “Beautiful, beautiful Obi-Wan. You like to be spread when you come. I remember that, you asking me to hold you open while you worked yourself. Fearless. Yet you hide your smile when you walk down the ramp to meet me after two years. But you don’t need to hide. I want to see all of you. Now, I’m going to spread you a little wider, and then I’m going to help your poor cock come again. That’s it. Good. Feel that. Feel that, there it is,” he slid his fist up and down the rigid column of flesh, watching Obi-Wan’s mouth set into a quivering “oh”, his exposed ass clenching, body preparing, “Almost there, that’s my boy, give it all up, you’ve got so much to give, don’t you, don’t you, Obi-Wan, haven’t you been saving it and now you can give it to me, give it to my hand…”

Obi-Wan moaned and spurted his hot come over Qui-Gon’s fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> More on the way! Let me know what you think or if you have any ideas about what else Qui-Gon could do to help Obi-Wan relax.


End file.
